The streets were quieter now, the chaos of the day settling into a peaceful hum.
Zaid walked beside Zoha, their steps unhurried, their conversation drifting between teasing and silence.
For once, he wasn't thinking about cricket.
Or money.
Or survival.
Just this moment.
Just her.
Zoha suddenly stopped in front of a small roadside stall.
"Ooh, chai!" she said, clapping her hands. "You want some?"
Zaid smirked. "You're seriously excited over tea?"
She gasped dramatically. "Excuse me? Chai is an emotion."
He chuckled. "Alright, alright."
They sat on a couple of plastic stools, the old chaiwala pouring out two steaming cups.
Zoha took a sip and sighed. "Perfect."
Zaid took his own sip, letting the warmth seep into him.
It reminded him of home.
Of his mother, making chai on chilly mornings before he ran off to play cricket.
A pang of something deep hit him.
Zoha seemed to notice.
"You okay?"
He blinked, shaking off the feeling. "Yeah. Just… remembering something."
She didn't push.
She just nodded, sipping her chai.
And somehow, in that simple, quiet moment—
Zaid felt lighter.
The chai warmed Zaid from the inside, but it wasn't just the tea.
It was the feeling.
The rare peace.
The way Zoha sat across from him, completely at ease.
She wasn't from his world.
She had never gone hungry. Never had to fight for every little thing.
And yet—
She was here.
With him.
Zoha tapped her cup lightly. "You ever just sit and people-watch?"
Zaid raised an eyebrow. "That's a thing?"
She grinned. "Of course. You can tell a lot about people just by looking."
He snorted. "Like what?"
She gestured toward an elderly man sitting nearby, sipping his tea slowly.
"That uncle over there? He comes here every evening. Probably retired. This chai stall is his escape from being stuck at home."
Zaid glanced at the old man.
Now that she mentioned it, he did look like this was part of his daily ritual.
Zoha pointed to a group of young boys, laughing over a single plate of samosas.
"They're probably skipping tuition. But look at them—they don't care. Right now, they're just… happy."
Zaid watched them, something in his chest tightening.
Once upon a time, he had been one of those boys.
Until life had forced him to grow up too soon.
Zoha nudged him playfully. "Your turn."
Zaid looked around, scanning the street.
Then, his gaze landed on a tired-looking woman, holding a small child on her hip while bargaining with a vegetable vendor.
He exhaled.
"She's counting every rupee in her head," he murmured. "Trying to figure out how to stretch her money for the rest of the week."
Zoha followed his gaze, her playful expression fading.
"That… was a little too real," she admitted softly.
Zaid shrugged. "That's how life is for some people."
Their eyes met.
For the first time, he saw something in Zoha's gaze that wasn't just amusement.
It was understanding.
Maybe she would never fully know his struggles.
But she was trying to.
And somehow, that meant more than he could explain.
The chai stall emptied out as the night deepened, but Zaid and Zoha remained.
For once, neither of them was in a hurry.
Zoha propped her chin on her palm, watching the flickering streetlight nearby. "You know, I don't think I've ever just sat like this before."
Zaid smirked. "You? Miss 'I Have Everything'? Never sat on a plastic stool drinking roadside chai?"
She rolled her eyes. "Hey, don't make me sound like some spoiled brat."
He chuckled. "Aren't you, though?"
Zoha gasped dramatically. "Excuse me! I am a very down-to-earth, humble person."
Zaid snorted. "Yeah, right."
She huffed, crossing her arms. "Okay, fine. Maybe I've never had to struggle the way you have."
He raised an eyebrow. "Maybe?"
She stuck out her tongue. "But that doesn't mean I don't get it."
Zaid leaned back, watching her.
She was different.
Most rich kids? They never even looked at people like him.
But Zoha?
She was sitting here, sipping chai with him, acting like they were equals.
Like he belonged here with her.
It was a strange feeling.
And he didn't know if he liked it or if it scared him.
Zoha suddenly stretched. "Alright, Mr. Cricketer. Walk me home."
Zaid blinked. "Huh?"
She grinned. "What, scared of the dark?"
He scoffed. "You wish."
She laughed, standing up.
Zaid hesitated for only a second before following.
Because for some reason, the thought of letting her walk home alone didn't sit right with him.
And as they strolled down the quiet streets, he realized something.
Tonight?
This was the happiest he had felt in a long, long time.